The Fledgling
by Sergeant Turtle
Summary: Martin's return shocked everyone, but all seems to be back to normal, except Martin is still mopey and listless. Carolyn quickly figures out the problem, and tells the team they're going on a holiday to her cousin's farm in Scotland. And there, they are going to help Martin remember how to fly. Rated T in case of stuff.
1. One

**Hi there! Here begins the third instalment of the Angel Circuit!**

**Obviously, I don't own anything.**

* * *

One

Carolyn bustled about the kitchen, looking more domestic than Douglas had ever seen her, in an apron with an egg slice wielded in her right hand and a plate in her left. Martin, sitting next to him at the counter, was still stifling the occasional giggle.

Breakfast at the Knapp-Shappeys' was a pleasantly noisy affair, as the two temporary residents had discovered over the last three days, with congenial chatter and clattering of plates and cutlery. 'Now, I know I don't have to tell Douglas this, but you are going to eat every single thing on your plate, Martin, and if you are still hungry, ask for more. I don't care how hyperactive your angelic metabolism is, you are still far too underweight for my liking.'

'Yes, Carolyn,' Martin replied meekly, after an unsmothered giggle had her shooting him a look that would have sent a tiger running.

Arthur attacked his stack of pancakes happily, chattering non-stop about how the clouds were finally gone, and it was a really nice day, and could they take Snoopadoop for a walk today, because Skip was looking pale and he needed to get some sun, like that cactus he'd had once and – and – and –

The pilots shook their heads and chuckled at Arthur's exuberance. Martin had been dead a week ago and was now sitting at the kitchen counter, and Arthur was just _Arthur_, like it was a day on standby.

Douglas just hoped he wasn't going to ask to play charades.

* * *

'Aah, sunshine!'

'Chipper today, aren't we, Douglas?'

'You're not the only one who's been stuck inside. If I don't do some exercise, my muscles will seize up,' grumbled the old pilot.

'Not that you exercise,' replied Martin, giving his friend a not-too-careful poke in the gut and dodging the swipe that followed it. 'Hey! You'll pay for that one, Captain!' Douglas retorted, but there was no venom in the statement, and he returned the others' grins with one of his own.

Something nudged at his leg, and he nearly tripped over Snoopadoop, who had decided that the human at the back was going too slowly. 'Alright, you silly ball of fur, I'm moving!'

Arthur smiled, practically skipping with happiness. 'She always does that. I think it's because she sees the world in slow motion.'

Martin raised an eyebrow. 'That was unusually introspective.'

'Eh?'

'Never mind,' the ginger-haired man replied, and Douglas snorted. 'Simple words around Arthur, Sir, even if you are a celestial being.'

The reply was a slight huff of laughter, and Martin walked ahead a little, enjoying the warm breeze. Douglas frowned. Something didn't look quite right. 'Martin – you are _tall_ all of a sudden.'

'Not "all of a sudden", I've always been this tall,' the lanky man replied. 'A simple glam was all it was. Trying to look forgettable – it's a good defense against Denizens.'

He said "Denizens" with a capital "D", thought Arthur. Skip had a way of speaking like that. "Denizens" was an interesting word; he'd have to ask what it meant sometime. 'What's a Denizen, Skip?'

'Something very nasty, Arthur,' Martin called back, 'and I hope you never have to meet one.'

Arthur thought about this. How nasty did that mean?

His musing was interrupted as he walked into Martin, who had abruptly stopped and was staring at a flock of birds in the distance. 'Skip? Are you okay?'

Martin said nothing. Douglas didn't like the silence that he'd lapsed into, or the near-unreadable look of dejection on his face. 'Martin?'

'Hm?'

'Are you alright?'

'Oh… it's nothing… nothing…'

Alarmed by the sudden shift in Martin's temperament, Douglas pulled on Snoopadoop's leash and turned back. 'Think she's had enough of a walk. Time to get back, then. Come on.'

'But she doesn't-' began Arthur, before the First Officer's significant glance towards the blank-eyed Captain shut him up. 'Oh. I see.' He paused awkwardly, trying to think of what he could say. 'You know more about dogs than me anyway, Douglas.'

'Of course,' replied the older man, giving the steward an approving nod. 'Off we go.'

'Come on, Skip!'

'Hm?'

'We're going!'

'Oh… okay then…'

* * *

'He was completely fine this morning, you saw him. Now he's just - moping.'

'It's not like… before, is it?'

'No. Then it was more a terrified, high-strung mood. This is like he's suddenly become depressed.'

Carolyn frowned thoughtfully. 'There wasn't anything that could have caused it?'

'I don't think so, unless looking at the sky causes depression.'

The CEO looked like she was about to say something, when a movement from Martin, sitting at the nearby window, made her stop.

A pigeon had landed on the sill several minutes prior, and as it now flapped its wings to fly away, the Captain leaned his elbows on the sill and touched the glass with the tip of one finger. Blue-green eyes followed the bird's path until it was out of sight, before he buried his face in his folded arms and sighed heavily.

Carolyn turned to Douglas, and from the look in his eyes, she knew he'd worked it out as well. 'We can help him. I know we can. We've got to.'

'We'll need somewhere out of the way,' the First Officer reminded.

His boss smiled that determined smile that often had naysayers doing a double-take. 'Not to worry. I know just the place. We'll teach Martin to fly again if it's the last thing I do.'

* * *

**MJN to the rescue! (heroic theme tune) It's great to be back in this universe and there is so much more to come!**


	2. Two

**I apologise for not updating this sooner. Uni kicked off and I might have gotten quite excited about my new BH6 AUs. Check those out, they're going to be awesome. Anyway, I'm on holidays at the moment, so this will hopefully pick up a bit.  
**

**\- ST**

* * *

Two

Douglas stepped out of the car and surveyed the surrounding area. 'Right in the middle of nowhere, long road to the house, nobody around for miles. It's absolutely perfect.'

'Of course it is, Douglas, did you doubt for a second that I knew exactly where to go?'

'I had complete faith, Carolyn. Come on, Martin. Let's go scope the place out.'

'Alright. D-do you really think this is going to work?'

There was a pause, the Douglas sighed and answered, 'I don't know, Martin. But we're going to try anyway, starting tomorrow.'

'Alright, you lot,' said Carolyn, let's go get settled in. We're here to do a very important job, so we are going to get a good night's sleep.'

'Yes, Carolyn.'

'Yes, Carolyn.'

'Yes, Mum.'

* * *

'So, you were left this five years ago and never made use of it?' the First Officer asked as he tried to start a fire in the dusty grate.

'Well, as you say, it's in the middle of nowhere, and I'd made plans to start MJN by then. I couldn't do that on a farm in Scotland.'

'True. You didn't think about selling it?'

'Sentimentality, I suppose. It used to belong to my grandmother. I practically grew up here. When she died, the house was left to her eldest, who passed it on to his daughter, my cousin Rosa, who gave it to me when she moved to France. It's a nice old place, but not really suitable for an airport.'

Douglas hummed in agreement as the sparks began to catch on the kindling.

Martin trailed a hand along one of the low roof beams, feeling the sanded smoothness of the wood. Oak. Maybe a hundred years old. The timber sang of storm winds and raven's nests, the warbling of robins and the buzz of lightning.

He blinked and let his hand drop, walking through the dusty house until he reached a creaky back door. Martin turned the knob and pushed it open, the rusted hinges squealing in protest as it swung back to let in a cool breeze and a stunning view of the highlands. There was a familiar itch between his shoulders, flight muscles bunching with no answer from the hidden pinions they were supposed to control. He _wanted_ to fly; his body was screaming "_Perfect conditions, chief! Up, up and away!"_ but his wings were heavy at his back, and he knew the feeling of weightlessness was a long way off. Closing the door, he shifted from foot to foot for a few awkward seconds before turning and retracing his steps to the main room.

Arthur had been pried out of the kitchen with promises of toasted marshmallows later so that he hadn't tried to "help" Douglas with dinner. They had stopped on the way to buy ingredients and essentials, and the smell of sausage stew began to waft through the house, sending mouths watering. Douglas, of course, was as good at cooking as he was at everything else, but Martin was a little too preoccupied to even pretend jealousy.

There was little conversation that night.

* * *

It was very pleasant waking up to the sunlight filtering through the curtains, the song of larks outside, and the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen, thought Martin as he rose the next morning. His dreams last night had been absolutely ghastly, full of Denizens reaching for him and the feeling of his wings turned to lead, allowing no escape. But there was no way they'd be coming after him, not yet. If he regained his wings, though… it wouldn't be long.

Best not to dwell on it right now, he told himself, accepting a full plate from Douglas and joining Arthur and Carolyn at the table.

After breakfast, Carolyn began the washing up, Arthur scrambled off on a "secret mission", and Martin and Douglas went outside to explore the farm.

'Take a good whiff of that atmosphere, Captain. Just the thing to get you in the mood for some exercises.'

'Exercises?'

'Well, I'm going to assume that the reason you can't fly is because you haven't used your wing muscles for… how long?'

Martin looked slightly ashamed. 'Um… about two and a half years?'

'Well no wonder, they've probably atrophied to stumps! Come on, let's get 'em moving again at least!'

Looking out the window, Carolyn watched with some amusement as Douglas put Martin's poor abused wings through what could only really be described as "avian physiotherapy". Her pilots were going to be kept very busy with the rehabilitation work in the coming weeks.

The sound of pattering footsteps reached her ears, and she turned to see her erstwhile son stomping the dirt from his wellingtons at the front door. 'Ah, Arthur, you're back. Did you find a good place?'

'I certainly did, Mum,' replied the steward with a wide grin. 'Just wait till you see it!'

'Yes, well, you'll have to show me after I've finished the dishes, dear,' said Carolyn, hands dripping with suds. 'I'm interested to see what you've discovered for tomorrow.'


	3. Author's Note

**ATTENTION ALL READERS! THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!**

Unfortunately, I am moving my operations over to AO3. I've found that I like the format and tagging system better. I am currently in the process of moving all the currently-posted chapters over, although that may take a few weeks. Regular uploads will then begin again (well, not _regular_ in timing sense, but you know what I mean).

If you'd like to keep following the stories, hop over to AO3 and look for my username, Sergeant_Turtle!

See you on the other side!

\- ST


End file.
